I Know You Better Than You Know Yourself
by LiteratiAngel
Summary: I wanted to drown out all memories of my James Dean and his confession of love. Love. As if he actually knew what it meant. Lit. LWFTWT re-write...ish. Some strong language. Reviews are love!
1. Conscientious Objectors

**I Know You Better Than You Know Yourself**

**Disclaimer: Ha! I wish!**

**A/N: Just a little filler for you while Only When I Sleep is on tempory hiatus. Was originally going to be a one-shot because it's basically Last Week's Fights, This Week's Tights from Rory and Jess' alternated POVs but I decided to split it up instead...'cause I can! This means that all chapters will be short...also, since this isn't exactly a re-write (although there is implied Lit!), it means that there won't be a happy ending, just hopefully some closure. Hope you enjoy...and remember people, reviews are love!**

**.........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................  
**

Conscientious Objectors and Rebellious Ghosts

_My conscience pesters me, consuming all previous thoughts as I realise what I'm doing. I'm out, late at night on a deserted campus with my married ex-boyfriend. I've been drinking and so all thoughts are hazy. I wanted to drown out all memories of my James Dean and his confession of love. Love. As if he actually knew what it meant. But now my thoughts are becoming clearer and this new clarity leads me to wonder what Dean is doing here…shouldn't he be home with his wife?_

"Dean…how is it that you can be out like this. Here. With me…or with anyone for that matter? Where does Lindsay think you are?" _I search for the confirmation that I'm not a home-wrecker, that I'm not the other woman. _

"She thinks I'm out." _His statement is flat and fails to reassure me so I try again._

"Out where?"

"Doesn't matter." _He's edging closer, ever so slightly. My mom's gonna kill me for this…_

"What's going on with you?" _I try to delay the inevitable but nothing will stop his pursuit._

_That is, until the weighty doors crash against the bricks and there he is. My heart races but whether it's from anger or another deep-rooted feeling, I'm not sure. I have an aching need to leap at him. To claw his face, to nestle in his arms, to beat him, to kiss him. Conflicting desires melding to become one but I can't move. I'm fixed to the spot, torn between guilt, anger and desire and he looks as he always did, like nothing could shake his cool composure. Jess._


	2. Out Of My Ivy League

Out Of My Ivy League

I made my decision a long time ago. I wasn't about to leave all the loose ends still hanging. I wanted her. I still do. Now it's time for me to take a chance, make a stand. Fight. Fight for her, for us, for everything we had and everything we could have. I've been fighting my whole life but this is something worth fighting for, an ongoing battle that I never fully understood until now.

As I wander around Yale's ivy-covered walls, desperately trying to locate her building, I wonder if she was right. If I could do more and be more. If I could have been sitting in one of these classrooms discussing the greats of literature. With her.

There's a light on in the hallway of her building and I catch sight of her. She's stood with her back to the door, talking to someone but I can't see who it is. I take a deep breath and quickly run through my prepared speech in my head. The door is heavy and as I push it open, it crashes into the brick wall.

There she is. Beautiful as ever. And I can finally see who she's talking to. A 6"2 mass of married ex-boyfriend complete with a dopey expression stamped across his face. Shit.

"_What are you doing here?" _It's accusing and not entirely undeserved.

My mind races, sifting through everything I wanted-needed-to say in a futile attempt to find the perfect opening line but _his_ presence throws me completely and I settle for one of my trademark blunt statements.

_"I need to talk to you."_

She's hesitating and I see my chance but just before I've worked up enough courage to jump right in with my speech-which sounds a little contrived now, given the circumstances-Bag Boy finally processes that I'm here for Rory and gets territorial…as usual.

"_Jess…" _He's growling at me, warning me off but she still looks uncertain so I press on regardless of his Frankenstein scowl.

"_I need to talk to you." _I repeat, emphasising the _"you"_ to make him realise that he is in no way invited to contribute to our conversation.

But he still doesn't get the message.

"_What's going on?"_ He addresses her but she's still watching me, nonplussed.

"_What are you doing here?" _She repeats but I'm reaching boiling point now and appeal to her in desperation.

"_Rory, please!" _I'm disgusted with myself that I should debase myself by begging her in front of _him_ but I'm left with little choice.

"_Rory?" _I hate that it's him who snaps her out of her stupor but she finally seems to realise that he's still standing there and turns to address him.

"_Go. Go home." _

"_No."_

"_Yes, go. You should go." _She sticks by her decision, which would leave us alone together and my spirits soar as he storms out and she turns to me. I allow myself to think that maybe I was wrong when I saw him here. That is, until…

"_Why won't you leave me alone? You won't go away!"_


	3. Long Winding Roads Or Vicious Circles?

Long Winding Roads Or Vicious Circles?

_Dean finally leaves. I hope I've given him something to think about, if I'm honest. I want him to realise that I'm not his anymore and he shouldn't be chasing me. Of course, this leaves me to deal with the smouldering leather-clad disaster stood in front of me._

_I never did work well under pressure-impulsive doesn't work for me-and I demonstrate this now, demanding to know why he won't leave me alone. I need time to heal but all I can hear is those three words buzzing around in my head, rubbing salt in an already open wound._

"Rory…" _He implores me, searching for confirmation that I'm spinning him a line. I am but I can't take it back now, not after everything that's happened. I want him to leave, to let me break down and cry. While he's here, I have to remain composed instead of being able to grieve for the love we lost. Because we _have_ lost it and I can't see that he'll have a miraculous solution up his sleeve._

"What do you want?"

"I dunno…I just wanted to see you, talk to you…I just…" _You just...what?!_

_I wish he was better at the verbal thing but it's always been a problem with us. Books and movies, we can talk about for hours on end, but give us anything substantial and it's awkward silences and monosyllables all round. I want to shake the truth out of him. But I stand rigid, afraid that touching him with lead to my downfall._

"What?"

"Come with me."

_His request throws me so completely that I have to hear it again to believe it._

"What?"

"Come with me."

_This is another one of his hair-brained schemes again. I can feel it. I have a vague recollection of the conversation in my car, just before the accident that brought us together, when he told me that he would do whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted and be damned to anyone who told him otherwise. Now he obviously wants me to do the same but I need some organisation, some planning, before I can commit to anything involving him._

"Where?"

"I don't know. Away." _His ambiguity is my confirmation. He's just ploughing into another crazy idea, as usual. Good old unpredictable Jess._

"Are you crazy?!" _I almost scream at him. I need for him to leave. I need a chance to break. I'm alone, there are no witnesses and the tears can flow freely._

"Probably. Do it. Come with me, don't think about it!" _I wish I could do just that but I need a safety net. I need to know that I've got something to come back to if he jumps off the speeding train again. Gets on yet another bus to California without telling me. I don't want to be Luanne Henderson to his Neal Cassady!_

"I can't do that!"

"You don't think you can do it but you can! You can do whatever you want!" _His unadulterated belief in me pulls at my heart, twisting the knife that he had left in there when he abandoned me for sun-drenched Venice two years ago._

"It's not what I want!" _I plead with him, desperately willing him to realise that I'm not ready to do this, to take this huge step in independence and trust._

"It is! I know you!"_ I don't want to tell him that I'm too scared to trust him but I have to say something and right now, I just want to hurt him._

"You don't know me!"_ I scream at him, daggers flying through my words. But I don't mean it. He does know me. He knows me better than I know myself._


	4. Boxed Beginnings

_Boxed Beginnings_

I snap back for a second, stung by her words. She's angry with me right now, I know that. It's completely justified but even so, I want her to take it back. I want to start the conversation over, get it right. Fix the mess that I've pulled us both into. I had it all planned out. Everything I was going to say, everything I was going to apologise for. I screwed it all up. Again. Just another Jess Mariano fuck up. Boy, do I know how to fuck up. _'Come with me'_?! Seriously?! What the hell was I thinking?!

I'm desperate now. I need to draw her into my vision of our potential life together. I need to paint the ideal picture but my imagination has dried up.

_"Look, we'll go to New York! We'll…work, we'll live together, we'll be together. It's what I want, it's what you want too!"_ I can hear the desperation in my voice and know that she'll pick up on it.

_"No!"_ I never knew that one tiny, seemingly insignificant word could hurt so much. I need to change her mind.

_"Look, I wanna be with you but…not here, not this place not…Stars Hollow! We have to start new!"_

_"There's nothing to start!"_ The knife twists. I want to back down, to crawl away and lick my wounds but I can't give up because it's an addiction. A sick, masochistic addiction to letting her hurt me.

That's when I finally look around the room and spot the boxes. Her first year at college packed away in cardboard. She could leave now. If she wanted to.

_"But…you're packed! You're stuff is all in boxes! It's perfect! You're ready…and I'm ready. I'm ready for this! You can count on me now, I know you couldn't count on me before but you can now, you can!"_ I think it's possibly the most words I've ever said to her but I have to tell her the truth, to let her into my innermost thoughts because I know that's the only way that she can ever learn to trust me again. It's the only way I can learn to trust myself again.

She looks like she's searching for an escape but I blocked her way to the exit when she backed away from me. She has to turn and face me. She has to give me an answer.

_"No!"_


	5. Denial of the Worst Possible Kind

Denial of the Worst Possible Kind

_I try to bite back my instant denial but the word has already left my lips and hovers in the air between us, a huge elephant of refusal. I'm not ready. I can't do this. I have no faith in my stamina. He deserted me. He has no staying power. He's too unpredictable. We're wrong together. I can think of so many excuses but they're all so feeble. He _does_ know me; he knows my innermost thoughts and feelings. He knows everything about me, possibly even more than my own mother knows, maybe even more than I know. He knows that I have a not-so-innocent side, that I'm not wholly the Town Princess. That I'm not as fragile as everyone believes me to be._

_Why can't I trust him?_

_Why can't I be impulsive?_

_Why don't I want this?_

_Why _do_ I want this?_

_Why can't I tell him?_

"Look, you know we're supposed to be together. I knew the first time I saw you. Two years ago! And you know it too, I know you do."

_I _do_ know. I knew as soon as he invited me to bail out of my bedroom window to _'walk around or sit on a bench and stare at our shoes'_. He always had to be the epitome of Beat. He doesn't just go through life, waiting for the perfect moments to fall right into his lap; he goes out and _lives_ them. I, on the other hand, like to wait for them to be handed to me on a silver platter complete with a gold embossed invitation. I could never be as self-seeking as he is. I could never be as brave as he is; it's just not like me to take risky chances. And this is possibly the riskiest chance that's ever been offered to me._

_And so denial-refusal-colours my lips again, rolling off my tongue._

"No. No, no, no, no!"

_I need him to leave. I can't keep doing this. I haven't got the strength. He won't meet my eyes but he still pursues me._

"Don't say no just to make me stop talking or make me go away. Only say no if you really…don't wanna be with me."

_Yes._

"No!"

_He looks at me. Stares at me. I've never seen his emotions this naked before. There is all-encompassing pain, unabashed, glittering in his dark eyes. I want to kiss a smirk back onto his beautiful, angelic face._

_But it's too late._

_He's already left me, alone amidst my despondent boxes. I give in and allow myself to sink down onto one of them. It's too late. I've lost him._

_Just as I promised myself, my tears flow freely. This is the first time I've allowed them to, the first time I've allowed myself to grieve for my Howard Roark._

_This is the first and final time._

_I'll compartmentalise. Shut it all away in my Jess Box. I won't cry for him. Us. Never again. It rips me apart too much and I have to be whole._

_Oh god, I loved him. I love him. Jess. My Jess._

_No. Not anymore._

_In the darkness of my dorm room, one word shimmers in the air, escaping from me in a rush of hot, salty breath. One word._

"Jess."


	6. Hello Stranger

**A/N: This chapter is slightly AU as I just skipped over LMHYBRO in an attempt to find my perfect ending. As far as I'm concerned, Jess just sent the invite on the off-chance, and because he wanted to show Rory his book (as he didn't go to see her at her grandparents' house). As far as this chapter is concerned, Rory and Jess haven't seen or spoken to each other since LWFTWT. Enjoy! Reviews are love!**

**...........................................................................................................................................................................................................................................**

Hello Stranger

I feel as though she's stabbed me. For a few moments, I can't move so I just stand there. And stare. Feeling absurd, I turn and walk away, compelling my feet to move in the opposite direction to her.

I feel physically drained, kind of like Dracula has been having a good old nibble and all my blood has slipped away. Quite frankly, I'd take a sadistic vampire over a pitiful ex-girlfriend any day.

I climb back into my car, grateful to be able to sink back into the lumpy seats and drive away from the disaster that I've left in my wake. The old feeling of failure and my fear of disappointing someone I love come creeping back to me, ghostly, tapered fingers clutching at my heart.

I start the engine gingerly, half expecting it to jump-start me into a tree. After the night I've had, it doesn't seem at all out of the question.

Yale's grandiose lamps fade into the distance as I speed back to New York to move on with my life. Or try to.

…

The open house is going so much better than anticipated. The hustle and bustle around me is material proof of that.

I never expected Luke to turn up, but there he is, puzzling over _"Untitled"_. I can understand his confusion, I've never really understood abstract art either but the artists pretty much pay our rent so I don't complain. Besides, as I give him the whistle-stop tour of Truncheon Books, I see a glint in his eyes that was only ever reserved for Rory. Pride.

I never thought I'd be part of one of those ridiculous 1940s movie scenes where the crowd parts to reveal the hero and heroine staring at each other. If we can even be classed as that. In our case, I'm pretty sure it'd be a bit of a melodrama.

But even so, the crowd shifts and there she is, beautiful as ever. Age has treated her well; she still looks as angelic as she did two years ago but there's a certain maturity there that I'd never seen before. She was never particularly childish, just…innocent.

My throat feels like it has closed up but I choke out a few breaths (whilst-hopefully-still looking relatively cool) and I finally find my voice.

"_Well. Isn't _this_ a day of surprises."_

A small smile crosses her face and I let myself relax slightly. I'll never fully let my guard down around her again but her smile makes me realise that we can maybe repair some of the damage.

She looks me straight in the eye, as if everything that happened is now water under the bridge and confidently, almost blasé, says…

_"I didn't RSVP. Sorry."_

_fin_


End file.
